Revenge is Sweet and NonFattening
by Anderida
Summary: Takes place during 'Lies My Parents Told Me' in Robin Wood's crucifix covered hideaway. There is no First Evil 'Early One Morning' trigger because I hate the song and I'm sure you don't want a re-hash of the original episode.


**Revenge is sweet and non-fattening **

**Takes place during 'Lies My Parents Told Me' in Robin Wood's crucifix covered hideaway. There is no First Evil 'Early One Morning' trigger because I hate the song and I'm sure you don't want a re-hash of the original episode. Title is a Hitchcock quote – don't you love it?**

Principal Robin Wood spat out, "If you have a God, start praying."

Spike tipped his head to one side, raising his scarred eyebrow questioningly. His eyes scanned the muscled human in front of him from head to toe. His lips twitched into a sneer.

"Never did believe in God, m'self." Spike explained. "Either a cruel, uncaring, capricious bastard …"

"Like you!" Wood cut in.

Spike smirked in response and continued. "Or he's an incompetent, ineffectual fucker. Either way, the Powers That Be notwithstanding, belief in any all-powerful deity who takes an interest in every single individual on this planet, an' maybe others, is irrational, dangerous and downright barking! 'Course, that's just my view, but then I have had a lifetime or three to ponder theism."

"Didn't ask you for a lecture in theology!" Wood snapped.

"Too true," Spike agreed. "But we don' always get what we want in this world, do we."

"No, we don't. I would guess that you want to walk out of here but it's not going to happen. Your dust will join the dirt on this floor and will be swept out to be trodden into the mud outside. You will spend eternity in hell!"

"Pretty speech. Be practising it long?" Spike turned away, deliberately showing Wood his back. "Don't wanna burst yer little bubble here, but you got it all wrong. Yes: I'll walk out of here. No: I won't be dust anytime soon. Sorry to disappoint. Naw, not really! Happy to disappoint! Anytime!"

Wood's anger had palpably moved up a notch. "Such arrogant bravado."

Spike turned back and affected a theatrical bow.

Wood continued, "And so fallacious."

"Can tell you're a Head Boy; you're using long words." Spike said, condescendingly.

"And you keep up your Smart Alec words, vampire. It will make your staking sweeter." Wood's face, managed a smile while never dropping the hard edge of hatred.

"Talking outta the top of yer hat, boy. You: human. Me: Master Vampire. Care to recalculate those odds?"

"But what you don't know, freak, is that I was trained by a Watcher. There's nothing I don't know about killing your kind; I've dusted enough of them."

"A Watcher, eh? But you're not a Slayer. So you must be connected to a Slayer in some way." Spike was intrigued. "Ah, got it!" Spike made the connection and he smiled broadly. "New York, 1977! You're the black bint's kid. Well, well, well. Nice little mover she was. Enjoyed the dance; we both did. 'Course, she had a death-wish. They all do." He finished in a matter-of-fact tone.

"You don't get to talk about my mother like that!"

"Oooh! I hit a nerve! Been bearing a grudge have we? Mummy didn't love you enough to keep herself safe for you? Your grudge is misplaced, orphan. Should be blamin' yer mum for deserting you. I was just doin' what I do. I kill Slayers!"

Wood lunged at Spike, who neatly stepped aside. Wood pulled up with a glare that gave the phrase, 'if looks could kill' potent eloquence.

"And I kill vampires! I will avenge my mother. You will pay for her murder."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Revenge is sweet an' non-fattening an' is a dish best served cold, an' all that. Heard it all before, mate. I'd quote Mrs Trump's '_gorgeous hair is the best revenge_' but I'd be wastin' m'time with you.

"An' you think you got a monopoly on losing parents? Got news for you: You're not the first and you won't be the last. Death happens to slayers, to humans. Just the way life goes, in'it. With slayers it's all part of the game. Suck it up!"

Wood had begun to slowly circle Spike, his right hand gripping a stake, his left hand clutching a crucifix.

"You know nothing about the death of a parent. You're just a cold-blooded killer."

"Now, I would have to disagree with both those statements. Personally, I like to snack on warm blood. Body temperature's just about right.

"As for the death of a parent, reckon I know more about that than you do. Not that it's any of your business, but lost m'dad when I was a nipper, an' m'mum died before her time. No social services, counselling or whatnot in those days, neither." He added quietly, "An' I've lost others close to me."

"Glad to hear that!" Wood spat. "But that doesn't mean you have any idea how I feel. You're a monster who kills indiscriminately with no emotion, no concern for the consequences, just a penchant for blind violence and slaughter!"

"Well now, can't deny that last bit. Enjoyed a bit of bloodshed in my time. But I kill to eat. Don't see you gettin' all teary-eyed 'bout a fox eatin' a rabbit, or you lot sending cattle to the abattoir. Same thing really."

A snort came from Wood.

Spike ignored it and continued. "But you're wrong about not knowing how you feel. Wasn't always a vamp. An' you don't have a monopoly on pain. Nor the need for revenge, come to that. But I guess my experience wasn' quite the same as yours 'cause my mum loved me; would have done anything for me. Doesn't sound like your mum cared two hoots for you, putting herself in harm's way like that.

"That's your real problem, not that you were orphaned but that your mum put her slayin' first. Shouldn't be surprised at that, her being the Chosen One. An' credit where it's due; she was good at it."

"My mother loved me! And _you_ killed her!" Wood growled. "You know nothing about her. You're not fit to lick her boots." Small beads of sweat dotted his forehead.

"Licking boots? Not really my scene, although it's not my place to judge if that's what you're into. Now leather coats … they're more my cup of tea." He leered.

"You think you're so damn clever. I'll make you regret your levity and your disrespect. I'll make you beg for a quick dusting."

"Yeah, I got that. You talk big. Unlike yer mum who was a fighter not a talker. I could respect her for that. But it won't be me begging for death. Neither did yer mum as it happens. After a while slayers crave death. Yer mum was no different but she kept fighting; really gave me a run for m'money. But I could tell when she gave up, when I knew I had her." Spike reached his palm out and snapped his fingers together as though he had caught a fly in his fist.

"Yeah, yer mum was okay, for a slayer. So, outta respect for yer mum an', in consideration of your, er, bereavement, – an', yeah, I 'suppose I don' wanna make Buffy mad – I'm going to do you a favour."

Another snort, again ignored.

"I'll let you walk out of here, undamaged." He stressed the last word. "No harm, no foul. 'Course, cross me again an' all bets are off. Capiche?"

"You'll let _me_ go." Wood was incredulous. "I don't think you 'capiche' what's going to happen to _you_."

"Know what you'd want to happen. But it ain't gonna. Let me disavow you. You stay: you die. You go and keep yer nose clean an' you get to live. Or din' I make it clear enough for you?"

Wood threw himself at Spike, stake held high and arcing down towards the vampire's chest, using his whole body weight to power his assault. Spike stood his ground until the last moment, then ducked while grabbing the arm as it sought its target. Spike forced the arm down and backwards with a twist, using the force behind Wood's attack against him, smirking when a loud crack echoed around the crucifix adorned room.

Wood fell to the floor with his face registering pain that he would not give voice to. From just above the elbow his arm was at an unusual angle and the skin was straining over what was clearly the end of a broken bone.

"Humerus! Not bad!" Spike looked pleased with himself. "Was aimin' for the ulna and radius. They're thinner; easier to crack. Look, mate, save yerself any more gyp and get the hell out o'here. No point making a martyr of yerself."

In reply Wood used his uninjured arm to push himself to his feet. He had dropped both the stake and the crucifix he had been holding so he reached back feeling along the workbench behind him for the crossbow he had placed there earlier. Has his hand found the shaft of the bow he allowed himself a smile. It was no more than a grimace through the pain but Spike recognised it and sighed.

"Give up, already!" he commanded in an exasperated tone. "You're just gonna get hurt some more. An' you make it more difficult for me. Don' wanna kill you, just maim you a bit, 'cause I know Buffy'd be a mite miffed if I offed you. But killing's my forte. Not had much practise on the 'leaving alive' front. So do us both a favour an' sod off!"

The crossbow bolt was suddenly airborne, loosely aimed at Spike's torso. It missed its target by a wide margin considering how close the two were standing but Wood had needed to both hold the bow and release the bolt with only one hand. The fact that he had managed to loose a bolt at all was testament to his rage-fuelled determination.

"You stupid or something?" Spike asked. "I'm giving you a 'get out of jail free' card. Well, 'get out of jail with a broken arm' pass, I guess. You still think you can best me? What planet are you from? Thought you were the intelligent type, you being Head Boy an' all."

Through gritted teeth Wood replied, "I'll wipe you off the board, you obscene abomination."

"Oh, sticks an' stones! Been called worse. By Dru actually. She had a command of language would make a sailor blush! 'Course that was only in her lucid moments, but she could charm the leaves back up the trees on a good day. All class, my girl."

Spike's reminiscence gave the appearance that his attention was distracted. Wood snatched a wooden cross from the bench, held it as a stake and dived at Spike again. With a quick side step Spike easily avoided the crucifix. Then his leg was making contact with the back of Woods knee, with all the vampiric power he could muster. Another crack rang out.

Now Wood did cry out as his smashed knee hit the floor. His useless arm had instinctively tried to break his fall and as that too hit the floor the jagged end of the shattered bone broke through the skin. He lay face down as blood ran from the wound.

"Aw, not fair! Now you're bleeding. That's gonna distract me. Like to play dirty, eh?" There was laughter in Spike's voice.

Wood couldn't answer. Just at that moment he couldn't even roll over onto his back to relieve his pain.

Spike sighed. "You're no fun anymore. I'm gonna head out for a fag an' a pint. Wanna come?" He waited a beat. "Oh, that's right; you can't walk! Your loss! I'd say, 'see ya around', but I'd better not if you want to keep the use of yer other limbs. Stay outta my way an' we'll get along just fine."

Spike spun round and kicked out at the door of the room, in much the same way as he'd felled Wood. As his boot made contact, the door flew open and Spike began to stride out of the little chapel Wood had fashioned.

"Toodle-pip, old boy." Spike called over his shoulder.

Outside Spike was surprised to see Buffy running towards him. He stood waiting for her, lighting a cigarette casually. As she approached he could see what he thought was relief flash across her face for a second, before her brow furrowed and worry showed itself.

"Spike, what happened? Giles and Robin had this trap for you and ….." Her gaze fell on the door behind Spike.

"Watcher boy involved too, eh? Should've expected as much." Spike mused.

Buffy pushed passed him and stood in the open doorway. It took a moment to take in all that she was looking at. Wood was now leaning on his good side and there was a sizeable patch of blood staining the floor.

Buffy knew she ought to rush to Wood's side but she honestly didn't know if she would help him or hit him. Crosses covered every surface of the room and Buffy knew why. She shivered.

She looked round at Spike, who was stubbing out his cigarette under his boot. "Did you do this?" she asked quietly, pointing back to the prostrate Principal.

"Yep," he replied without a hint of regret or embarrassment.

Buffy didn't have to ask him why.

She looked back and asked Wood, "Did you do this?" as she waved her hand to indicate the crosses.

He didn't speak but gave her a tiny nod in reply.

"Why?" Buffy asked.

But Wood was in too much pain to answer.

Spike spoke from just outside the door, "I killed his mother. She was a Slayer. My second. You know, the one in New York."

"Oh." Was all Buffy could manage, turning to face Spike.

"Better get him to a hospital, pet. Tell 'em he's got an open fracture of his right humerus, damage to the elbow ligaments, dislocated right patella, fractures to the head of the right distal femur, possible fractures of the proximal tib/fib with attendant muscle and ligament damage. Oh, an' I think he stubbed his toe when he fell.

"He'll be out of action for several months and he'll likely suffer from bad arthritis in later life. That's assuming he doesn't piss me off again and has a later life."

Buffy stared disbelievingly at the vampire.

"Ate an orthopaedic surgeon once!" he quipped, in answer to her unvoiced question. Then he winked at her and swaggered off in the direction of Willy's bar.


End file.
